


Broken Hearts and Better Plans

by dizzy



Series: Trip and Stumble [11]
Category: Glee RPF, StarKid Productions RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with socks. (Warning for angst.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Hearts and Better Plans

**Author's Note:**

> I was a total brat during the entire process of writing this, so in addition to the most kickass beta readers ever (Mav, Scott, Jude, and Helen) I feel like I also need to thank Becky and Erin for giving me much needed nudges along the way.

**Week One**  
  
It starts on a Monday in late March, and it starts with socks.   
  
Darren has this awful habit of keeping them on when he gets into bed because his feet are cold, but once he’s warm under the covers he’s too lazy to move the blanket and take them off. So he tugs and pulls using his toes and leaves the socks at the end of the bed.   
  
He’s asked Darren at least half a dozen times to just take his fucking socks off before he gets into bed, but Darren keeps doing it.   
  
When Chris takes apart the bedding so he can wash the sheets and finds five dirty socks at the end, it’s the last straw. Darren is in class so Chris fires off a rant in half a dozen texts.   
  
He should probably have stopped after that, but it’s been a shitty day and it feels kind of good to take it out on someone. When he finds an empty milk carton and empty orange juice container in the fridge, he sends a couple more texts.   
  
But of course, the real fight isn’t about socks, or orange juice, or any of the trivial things.   
  
The real fight is about the paper that flutters to the ground when Chris knocks a folder off after somewhat enthusiastically slamming the full basket of freshly washed laundry (including Darren’s stupid socks) on top of Darren’s desk.   
  
(It felt good, okay, and it’s not like the socks knew the difference.)   
  
He glares at the folder for daring to fall and then reaches for it.   
  
That’s when the paper falls out. Chris doesn’t  mean to look, but he also doesn’t assume that Darren would be keeping any secrets from him.   
  
Only, he is, right? He must be, because they definitely haven’t talked about this.   


*   
  
When Darren comes in, he’s already annoyed.   
  
“Really, man? Really? Six fucking texts? About my fucking socks?”   
  
Chris is in the bedroom. He’s been sitting on the bed staring at the transfer paper for ten minutes. The edge of the paper is crinkled where his fingers have been gripping it tightly.   
  
Darren walks into the bedroom, still working his way into a good rant. He stops dead still when he sees the paper in Chris’s hand. “Hey, that’s-”   
  
“Yeah,” Chris snaps tightly. “Were you even planning on telling me?”   
  
He gets to his feet and shoves it at Darren, pushing past him roughly. He has no idea where he’s going, but he wants to go somewhere.   
  
Or maybe not. Maybe he wants to stay and yell. He turns back around, hand on his hip.   
  
“Chris-” Darren looks worried. “Hey, I’m not even sure I’m-”   
  
“That eager to get away from me?” Chris asks, spiteful.   
  
“No, it’s just - it’s a fucking good opportunity! I was gonna _talk_ to you about it.” Darren voice rises louder and louder the more he says. “Why are you going through my shit anyway?”   
  
“I wasn’t. Your folder fell and this came out.” His voice drops, accusing. “Darren, you filled it out.”  
  
“So? I was in the language lab working on my stuff when someone came around with the forms. I was bored, okay? Fuck. You knew I wanted to go to Italy, I’ve been learning the language since I was fourteen, come on.”  
  
Chris can’t really find the words to explain how there’s a difference in talking about trips they’d like to take, and Darren actually planning it without him. “You said a vacation. This is for a semester.”   
  
“I wasn’t just gonna fucking up and leave, jesus, Chris.” Darren throws his hands in the air. “You’ve had a stick up your ass all day. What’s going on with you?”   
  
The words catch in his throat and he wants to tell Darren what his mother had said on the phone that morning ( _Hannah’s test results. She’s been listless lately. Something abnormal in the report._ ) but he’s always had problems with keeping things too close to the chest, and he’s still reeling from the fear of Darren leaving.   
  
So he lets anger pick his words for him. “My boyfriend is an inconsiderate asshole, that’s what’s wrong.”   
  
Any hint of sympathy on Darren’s face is gone. “Wow, must be a total hardship to put up with him.”   
  
“Yeah, you know, sometimes I wonder why I do.” There’s low, boiling anger in his chest and  when he spits out the words he really means them. “Maybe I should just take off, then? I hear Italy is nice this time of year.”   
  
“Chris! Fuck, it wasn’t like that-”   
  
“Then what was it fucking like? If you were going to talk to me about it, maybe you would have before you filled it out,” Chris shoots back. “Don’t pretend like you cared what I thought.”   
  
“Where the fuck is this even coming from?” Darren makes a bewildered gesture. “Like I ever hide anything from you on purpose?”   
  
“You kissed some random girl in New York and hid that from me,” Chris points out. “And you never told me you and Julia dated, I had to ask.”   
  
“What the fuck? What does that even have to fucking do with this?” Darren slams his hand down onto the desk, letting go of the semester abroad form. “You think I’m gonna cheat on you there or something? Is that it?”   
  
Actually, that hadn’t even occurred to Chris, but the minute Darren says it the worry hits home hard. “I don’t know. Is that something I need to worry about?”   
  
“You are being fucking ridiculous, man. Like, just take a minute and listen to yourself.” Darren’s obviously trying to calm him down, but the more he attempts to placate the more upset Chris gets.   
  
“No, you listen to yourself. You’re trying to make me feel like I’m the one that’s done something wrong, and I haven’t. I’m not the one secretly planning on leaving the country.”   
  
“God damn, Chris. I don’t know, maybe it’d be a good thing. You wouldn’t have to put up with finding my fucking socks if I were it Italy, right? I mean, might be a fucking dream come true for you.”   
  
Chris jerks back as though it was a physical slap and not just a verbal one. “Maybe I should just go now and not have to worry about it anymore.”   
  
Darren’s voice is coldly casual when he answers back, “Hey, no one’s making you stay.”   
  
“You’re right,” Chris says.   
  
And then he grabs his bag and leaves.   
  
*   
  
He doesn’t even know where to _go_. His phone is in his pocket at least; good. That’s good.   
  
He scrunches his face up, squeezes his eyes shut hard, and breathes. If he were eight years old, he’d be running to hide under his bed again. _(_ _Go somewhere you feel safe. Go somewhere the bad things can’t hurt you. Block it all out, don’t let anything in._ )  
  
He can’t lose it. He won’t lose it.   
  
He calls Ashley and as soon as he hears her voice, he has to hang up. He can’t make his mouth work right to say the words.   
  
She calls him back right away.   
  
He answers and it’s better. He’s better, at least enough to say, “Can I crash with you for a few days?”   
  
*  
  
Lauren is the first one to call him.   
  
He doesn’t answer.   
  
*   
  
Joey calls next.   
  
He doesn’t answer.   
  
*  
  
 _Julia_ calls.   
  
That’s when he realizes that Darren isn’t going to actually call himself. That’s when he realizes that maybe this isn’t just a fight they can bounce back from.   
  
Maybe this is a break up. Maybe Darren was trying to get away from him. Maybe that’s what Italy was. He was ready for the relationship to be over, but - but Darren hates hurting people. He hates that sort of confrontation.   
  
Chris did the work for him, though. Chris left - voluntarily.   
  
And Darren isn’t going to chase after him. He’s just using his friends to make sure Chris is okay, because that’s the kind of decent guy that he is.   
  
Julia calls a second time. Chris turns his phone off.   
  
*  
  
Of course, he needs his things.   
  
He calls Brian. He’s not sure if it’s a smart decision or not. Brian and Darren are close, just not as close as Darren is to Joey.   
  
“Chris, man. We thought you were dead or something,” Brian says.   
  
“No, but.. I need some stuff. Is he... can I...”   
  
“He’s not here, man,” Brian says. “You can come by if you want.”   
  
*  
  
Brian tries to talk to him when Chris gets there, but Chris won’t hear it. “Just don’t,” he says, and Brian - the good thing about Brian is that when someone says something, he listens. He’s a pretty straightforward kind of guy.   
  
It hurts like nothing else to empty the drawers and throw his clothes into a bag, to clear his desk of schoolwork and notebooks. He has to sit for a for a minute and let the sick feeling pass, but he can’t sit on the bed so he takes the floor, back against the door with his arms wrapped around himself.   
  
He can’t do this. How does anyone survive this? It hurts, everything hurts. He’s only packed maybe half of his things, but he doesn’t care, he can’t stay. He zips his bag up and leaves without saying anything to Brian.   
  
*  
  
The campus isn’t exactly small, but he still runs into people. He has a class with Devin and one with Matt and Corey.   
  
Devin gives him an uncomfortable, displeased look. She’s sitting with a group of girls that Chris doesn’t know, so he just takes himself to the other side of the room and spends the class period studying the text he has to have memorized. He leaves the class with exactly nothing accomplished.   
  
Corey doesn’t really say anything, but he and Chris have never been particularly close. He’s hard pressed to even think of a conversation they’ve had privately in all the time Chris has been - has dated Darren.   
  
Matt acts like nothing is wrong, and Chris could hug him for it. The only indication that he knows anything at all is the squeeze he gives Chris’s shoulder as he walks out.   
  
*  
  
On Friday, Darren tries to call him.   
  
He doesn’t answer.   
  
Instead he lets Ashley talk him out of the apartment and into a bar, where he proceeds to drink approximately half his weight in vodka and then let Eric guide his stumbling self onto the dance floor.   
  
Eric doesn’t even want to dance. Eric is worried about him, constantly asking him if he wants to leave.   
  
He says no. It’s not even particularly that he wants to be here - there’s just no where else he can imagine going that would make him feel any better, so why not stay?  
  
*  
  
He realizes why less than half an hour later as he’s bolting across the dance floor toward the hall that leads to the bathroom. People part for him, some with sympathetic glances and some just annoyed, none wanting to be in his path.   
  
Eric follows in behind him soon. He finds the stall Chris is in (at least this bathroom has a few stalls) and awkwardly hovers beside him, hand rubbing circles on Chris’s back.   
  
He sounds contrite and Chris is pretty sure that if he could stop hurling for long enough to see, his expression would match. “I’m so sorry, Chris, I didn’t realize how much you’d had. Are you okay? Do you need some water?”   
  
Chris shakes his head. There are tears dripping down his cheeks and he doesn’t even remember starting to cry. He feels _awful_ , a hundred times more awful than the only other time he’s drank to the point of throwing up. Because Darren had been there then, Darren making him feel better, kissing and cuddling him.   
  
Darren’s not here anymore.   
  
He throws up again.  
  
*  
  
Eric and Ashley get him home, but he’s so hungover he doesn’t even bother getting off of the couch the next day. Ashley has work so she’s up and leaving early.  
  
He doesn’t manage to keep any food down and when she comes back she finds him curled up and sleeping fitfully on the couch. She forces him to eat a bowl of easy mac and lets him lay with his head in her lap, petting his hair while he tries to see if his stomach is going to allow the food or not.   
  
He’s pretty sure at this point it’s stress and guilt, not alcohol, but either way he’s never felt worse in his life.   
  
Ashley makes him get up and go to class the next morning though. She texts him off and on throughout the day, detours through the library to bring him a muffin and a coffee when she knows that he’s working, and sends him the stupidest text messages that she can think of.   
  
(But in all of that, she doesn’t say one bad word about Darren. She barely says a word about Darren at all. Maybe she knows Chris better than he thought, but the only way he can get through this is to try and forget.)  
  
None of it really makes him smile. He can’t imagine anything making him smile ever again, and he knows how stupid and young he is right now, he knows that breakups happen and life goes on.   
  
But it won’t go on the same. For the past year and a half, Darren has been tethered to every thought he has and action he takes. He wasn’t the center of Chris’s universe, but he was an unshakeable constant in it.   
  
He has to ask someone to cover the desk for him, walking deep into the stacks and bracing himself against a shelf, struggling to catch his breath.   
  
He’s always figured he’d spend his life alone. As a teenager, watching his classmates group up and pair off, he’d honestly not cared.   
  
Now, he cares.   
  
  
**Week Two**  
  
Chris almost stops being a miserable lump over the weekend. He marathons Real Housewives with Ashley and manages some fairly cutting remarks. He eats three slices of pizza before he realizes that no one even tried to get him to order pineapple on it and loses his appetite again.   
  
He laughs, even, once or twice. But then Monday rolls back around and it’s been exactly seven days.   
  
He can’t stop the mental countdown in his head, can’t stop remembering exactly what he was doing this time last week.   
  
Seven am (he’d woken up to Darren snoring in his ear), seven thirty (he’d showered, realized Darren had used the last clean towel and neither of them had gotten around to laundry over the weekend), eight am (running late, he hadn’t even poked his head in the bedroom to say goodbye before he’d left for class).   
  
He makes it to his first class but leaves after ten minutes. He cries in a handicap stall, sitting on a closed-lid toilet and spends almost half an hour staring down at Darren’s name in his phone, reading over their last text message conversation. He gets back to the last time Darren texted i love you and has to put it away.   
  
*   
  
He has an exchange with Brian over text messages about the rest of his things.   
  
_Chris: Has he packed my stuff up yet?_  
 _Brian: I don’t think so. You coming back, man?_  
 _Chris: I don’t have anywhere to put anything right now._  
 _Brian: Hey no hurry. It’s all good._  
 _Chris: Thanks._   
  
*  
  
On Wednesday, Chris sees Darren for the first time since what he’s finally accepting probably was actually a break up. (But part of him thinks, hopes, maybe not. He hasn’t signed onto facebook since, not wanting to see if Darren’s status has changed.)   
  
It’s half past five and he’s in the dining hall. He hasn’t been able to bring himself to eat there again. He’s only planning on grabbing a to-go plate and finding something that he can eat in the break room at the library before his shift starts.   
  
But his traitorous eyes go straight to their usual table, and -   
  
There he is. He’s talking to Julia and Joe and he looks... fine, honestly. He’s smiling.   
  
He looks fine.   
  
Until he glances up, toward the door, like he can somehow feel Chris’s gaze on him. He sees Chris standing there and his face falls. For a split second everything is open and everything _hurts_ and Darren almost seems to be pleading.   
  
But Chris can’t, he can’t. So he turns, food suddenly the last thing on his mind, and walks away.   
  
*  
  
He sits at a corner booth with Eric.   
  
Ashley’s supposed to be meeting them, but she’s running late. At least he assumes she is. She stopped answering his reminder texts fifteen minutes ago.   
  
“I really don’t think I’m up for this,” Chris says, hand already inching back toward his bag.   
  
He wants to go back to Ashley’s, to hole up on his couch and listen to his most depressing playlist and hope he manages to fall asleep and by some small blessing not dream about Darren.   
  
Eric doesn’t give up that easily, though. “You have to eat something. Might as well stay here and do it.”   
  
“I just...” Chris sighs. He hasn’t told Eric what happened earlier. He doesn’t really plan on it.   
  
“Come on, do you really want me to tell Ashley on you? You know what she’s like just as well as I do.” Eric teases him, a little smile on his face. He picks up a chip and waves it around. “Doesn’t this look tasty?”   
  
“You’re an idiot,” Chris laughs despite himself. “If it looks so tasty, you eat it.”  
  
“Fine. I will.” Eric crunches down on the chip. “I’ll eat all of them, and you can’t have any, where will you be then?”  
  
“Home, because I really just want to go,” Chris says, rubbing his eyes. “I’m sorry, I know I’m awful company.”   
  
“You’re not, okay?” Eric reaches out and tugs Chris’s hand away from his face. “Even when you’re little mister sadface, you’re still great company. I just wish I could help you cheer up.”   
  
With another hefty sigh, Chris says, “I saw him today. For the first time.”   
  
“Oh, shit.” Eric frowns sympathetically. “That’s always rough. Was he with someone else?”   
  
“What? No. I mean - our friends. His friends, I guess. I don’t even know if I get to still be friends with them.” Chris has discovered that as another level of pain in the situation. He’s lost his footing, his niche here in Michigan. He’s lost his _friends_.   
  
“If they ditched you that fast, you needed better friends in the first place,” Eric says.   
  
Chris shrugs. He doesn’t mention that every time he’s seen anyone besides Matt, he’s turned and went the other way. But now it’s been over a week, and someone would have called, right? (Except that they did, those first couple of days, but he just hadn’t been able to bring himself to answer. He sort of wishes they’d try again, though.)   
  
“Well,” Eric continues. “You’ve got Ashley, I know that for damn sure. And... I hope you know you’ve got me.”   
  
The awkward coffee shop conversation is months and months in their past. Eric _has_ been a good friend - even Darren had admitted to liking him, sort of, once he’d managed to look past the Eric hitting on Chris thing.  
  
“I do,” Chris says, relaxing marginally.  
  
“So you’ll stay?” Eric says, hopeful.   
  
He still wants to go, but he also knows that home won’t be better. He’ll just wallow, and mope, and maybe Eric is right. Maybe he does just need a friend right now. “I’ll stay.”   
  
*  
  
“You’re cold,” Eric notes.  
  
It’s late March and there’s still a chill in the air. They’re walking home and Chris wishes he’d remembered to bring a heavier jacket, but the previous week had been warmer so the only thing he’d gotten from the apartment before he took off was a light one.   
  
“Yeah,” Chris admits.   
  
“Here,” Eric says, shrugging out of his own coat. It’s still just the two of them, Ashley staying so late at work that she’d decided to just go home afterward.   
  
Chris tries to say no, but Eric insists and it is warmer when he slips into the thick, lined coat. But it smells too different and it’s much too big on him and he has to resist the urge to rip it right back off. He won’t be melodramatic about this, though, he won’t let himself do that.   
  
They’re close to Ashley’s apartment when Eric stops him with a hand on his arm. “Chris?”   
  
“Yeah?” Chris stops and looks at him, stomach tightening. All that’s going through his mind is _no, don’t, fuck-_  
  
And then Eric kisses him, mouth on his gently.   
  
Chris doesn’t kiss back - at first. But it’s warm and Eric tastes like the ice cream they’d stopped in for afterward and Chris’s mind has apparently taken a five minute break, because he not only kisses back but he leans in for more when Eric pulls away.   
  
Eric obliges, and one kiss turns into a stretch of minutes. He feels warm hands on his face and a tongue licking into his mouth and he keeps kissing back, because fuck, it feels good. Eric is a good kisser, slow and thorough and Chris whines against his mouth because right now in this moment he wants more. He wants to be touched, and right now the couple of weeks that it’s been since he was with Darren feels like forever.   
  
But no, because it’s not Eric that Chris really wants this from, and that’s when awareness slams back into him.   
  
“Oh.” He says, jerking back. “Oh. Shit. I’m sorry, but no, I can’t-”   
  
Eric laughs, hands on his arms. His lips are kissed-red and damp and there’s a tiny part of Chris that just screams fuck it, that wants more - but just the idea makes him hyperventilate a little. Eric’s laugh dies out and he looks concerned again. “Hey, calm down. Breathe.”   
  
Chris gulps in air but it’s not fast enough because tears are welling in his eyes. “I _can’t_.” His voice breaks on the word.   
  
“Then you don’t have to,” Eric says, squeezing soothingly. “I swear I didn’t mean to just - you look so fucking cute, though. I was just going to say, though - if you need to-”  
  
“I thought you were seeing...” Chris doesn’t even remember the guy’s name.   
  
Eric shrugs. “It’s not that serious. He wouldn’t care.”   
  
“It’s only been two weeks.” Chris takes a step back. “I’m not ready.”   
  
“Okay,” Eric says. “That’s fine. And even if you do get ready and it’s not me - that’s okay. But be careful. You’re coming out of a long relationship and it can get a little crazy. I want to make sure if you feel like doing something impulsive, you still do it with someone you trust.”   
  
“Like you.” Chris repeats back, voice dull. It feels like something is clawing at his insides when Eric talks about his relationship in past tense. “I don’t think - no. I’m not there.”  
  
“All right.” Eric is still smiling at him, still being so fucking nice.   
  
Chris takes the jacket off. “Here. I think I can make it the rest of the way myself.”  
  
“You’ll freeze,” Eric points out.  
  
“No, I’ll be fine,” Chris says. “I could really use a minute to just... clear my head.”  
  
“Okay, then.” Eric looks dubious but he steps back and gives Chris his space. “Text me and let me know when you make it home.”   
  
*   
  
Chris sits outside of Ashley’s building.   
  
He really is still freezing.   
  
Hands shaking, before he can lose his nerve, he dials Darren’s number.   
  
It rings once. Chris is already planning on what he’s going to say.   
  
It rings twice. _I love you, and I’m sorry._  
  
It rings three times. _I just want us to be together again. We can work it out, can’t we?_   
  
It rings four times. _I can’t do this without you. I need you too much._   
  
It rings five times. _Please say you need me, too._   
  
Voicemail.   
  
He hangs up.   
  
*  
  
On Friday, he’s leaving campus when a professor stops him.   
  
She’s one of his favorites, one of the faculty advisors for the humor magazine and someone he’s turned to probably more often than his actual academic advisor in the past two semesters.   
  
“Christopher! I was just going to email you - do you have a minute?” She asks, breathless from jogging to catch up to him.   
  
He slows down, turning around. “Of course.”   
  
“Wonderful. Come on,  we’ll go to my office. I’ll only need five minutes, I swear. I’m sure you’ve got busy weekend plans and you want to get out of here.”   
  
He doesn’t, really. “I’ve got time.”   
  
In her office, she shuffles through a stack of papers and brandishes a thick manila envelope. “Chris, you’re good. I don’t think I need to tell you that, your grades are good, your submissions are good, and you’re always on top of assignments. You’re reliable, and you’re going to go far.” It’s frank praise that blows him off his feet. “I like to reward that. I like to give people a hand climbing the ladder whenever I can, and I think I have an opportunity that’s perfect for you.”  
  
He stammers back at her, “I- I don’t even know what to say. Thanks- thank you? Thank you.”   
  
“It’s a closed competition and the winner gets a pretty hefty scholarship.” She hands him the envelope, laughing a little in a fond way at his reaction. “I think you have a really good shot, Chris.”   
  
He leaves her office ten minutes later feeling, just for a moment, like he’s floating. It lasts until he grabs his phone, because he realizes that his first thought had been, _I have to tell Darren._   
  
  
**Week Three**  
  
“Okay, boo,” Ashley says, settling down across from the Starbucks table from him. “We gotta have that come to Jesus.”   
  
Chris looks down at the monologue he’s trying to memorize. He’s doing his best to pretend like he has no idea what she’s talking about.   
  
“Frankly, living with you is pretty badass,” she says. “You do more grocery shopping than I do, you clean up after yourself, you shower daily, and you don’t freak out if I accidentally forget to put on a shirt after I take a shower.”   
  
Chris winks at her. “Why would I? You know you’re gorgeous, darling.”   
  
“Plus, you’re good for my ego,” she adds. “But my place is too small.”   
  
The smile on his face fades. “Yeah. I know.”   
  
Honestly, he’s getting pretty tired of sleeping on the couch.   
  
“So, here’s the deal. If you want to look for a two bedroom, I’m in. I can talk to my landlord about maybe finding something in the building and see if he’d just let us extend the lease instead of buying mine out. He’s a pretty cool dude, so you never know.”   
  
Signing a lease. That’s big. Not just couch crashing - but taking that permanent step. Living somewhere else. With someone else.   
  
He can’t quite work the words to agree out of his mouth.   
  
She reaches over and gives his hand a sympathetic pat. “Think about it, okay? You’re not out on your ass yet, but I want to figure this out before there is a permanent Chris-outline on my couch.”   
  
“I’ll figure it out soon,” he swears, covering her hand with his. “Thanks, Ashley.”  
  
*   
  
Chris sees Lauren as he’s coming out of his Tuesday afternoon writing class.   
  
He turns and walks right back into the building but she catches up to him easily, deceptively fast for having such short little legs. “Chris!”   
  
He turns, trying to steel himself for whatever she’s going to say. “Lauren. Hi.”  
  
“You asshole.” He’s not prepared for her throwing her arms around him. “You absolute shithead.”   
  
“What?” His arms are still by his sides.   
  
“I should kick your ass.”   
  
Well, that’s sort of what he’d expected, but combined with the hug he is thoroughly confused.   
  
“You do not _ever_ go that long without talking to me again, okay? I don’t care what is going on between you and Darren, I miss your stupid face and Brian kept saying we should give you some time but fuck _that_. I need you in my life, Colfer.”  
  
He’s floored by the admission and then hugs her back tightly. “Missed you, too, Lopez.”  
  
*  
  
He ends up having dinner with Lauren. They very pointedly don’t talk about Darren. Lauren tells him about a paper she’s writing, and Chris talks about his own classes, and it’s probably pretty obvious to her exactly how he’s doing but he laughs more during the one meal with her than he has in weeks.   
  
When they part ways in front of the cafe, she hugs him again and issues a stern warning. “I know it’s rough right now, but we _all_ miss you.”   
  
Chris laughs wryly. “I’m sure Darren doesn’t.”   
  
“Are you kidding?” Lauren says. “Look, this is totally breaking the bro code, but I’m pretty sure I lack the necessary parts for bro-ness anyway. Darren won’t tell anyone what happened - well, I’m sure Joey knows, but he’s not talking, either - but he’s a mess, Chris.”   
  
It might make him an awful person, but the first reaction Chris has to hearing that is bone-deep relief.   
  
The relief doesn’t stay with him, though. Once he’s left with his own thoughts again, he realizes that Darren being upset... it’s not really a surprise. Chris hadn’t _really_ thought Darren would just stop caring for him instantly. Stop being in love with him - as much as it hurts, maybe. But no, Darren cares for people with every fiber of his being, that doesn’t just turn off.   
  
All this means is that Darren is upset, but not upset enough to even talk to Chris.   
  
*  
  
Part of him actually thinks that his parents will celebrate when he calls to say he might need some help financially, that his rent is about to go up.   
  
What he makes at the library won’t cover the difference in going from splitting rent four ways to splitting it two, even if he and Ashley get a smaller place than the one he split with Darren, Joey, and Brian.   
  
She’s right, though; he can’t just sleep on her couch indefinitely.   
  
But telling his parents - it feels like a facebook step, like all those things he’s been avoiding. Like something that would make it real.   
  
This weekend, he decides. He’ll call this weekend.   
  
*  
  
Chris is in his last class of the day on Thursday when he gets the call from his parents. He doesn’t answer, hits decline and lets it go to voicemail. Two seconds later, his mother is calling right back. Annoyed, he does it again.   
  
When she calls back a third time a knot forms in his stomach. He slides his laptop closed and into his bag, then quietly stands and makes his way out, trying not to disturb the rest of the class.   
  
It’s not his mother after all. It’s his father, and that’s even worse.   
  
Hannah’s in the hospital; another bad one. It’s a phrase he’s heard so many times in his life, but somehow they’ve had a good run the past year and a half. The only hospitalizations were planned, prepared for in advance.   
  
Not like this. He feels sick and shaky and he hates how it feels to not be there to hold her hand and make her laugh when she wakes up. No one else is good at that. His mother goes into business mode, locked down feelings and bluntly stated facts. His father is good for hugs and making her feel it’ll be okay in the end. But it’s Chris that distracts her from everything, that colors with her and knows her favorite movies to bring to the hospital, and how to do the stupid stuffed animal voices to make her giggle. Who will do that for her, with him gone?   
  
And worse: What if it doesn’t matter that he’s not there? What if she doesn’t wake up at all?   
  
He sinks down onto a bench and hands his head low, bent down. His arms clasp around himself and he’s crying, messily and noisily, not giving a single fuck who sees.   
  
He hears a familiar voice say, “Fuck,” and then strong hands are hauling him up. He sees Darren through tear-blurred vision and stumbles forward into his arms, clinging and sobbing. Darren’s already put down the guitar case he’d been carrying with him and his messenger bag. He catches Chris with ease and rubs hands up and down his back.   
  
“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Darren says. He kisses Chris’s neck, his cheek, holds him in close. “Breathe, okay? Breathe for me, baby, come on. You’re gonna make yourself pass out. Just listen to me, okay? Listen to me, and breathe.”  
  
Darren starts to sing low into his ear and Chris does exactly what he’s told; he breathes, and lets the song drown out everything else, and soon he doesn’t feel quite so lightheaded.   
  
He can’t let go of Darren just yet, though. When Darren tries to pull back Chris lets out a strangled noise. “No, don’t-”   
  
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.” Darren’s back instantly, arms even tighter. “I’ve got you. Can you tell me what’s wrong, though? You’re not - did someone hurt you? Do something-”   
  
There’s an undercurrent of raw fear to Darren’s voice. Chris shakes his head. “Hannah. Hospital.”   
  
His voice rises on the end, the hysteria threatening again but Darren just shushes him. “Hush, okay. That’s - it’s bad, but, but you making yourself sick won’t help her, okay? Come on, let’s... let’s get you home, okay? Do you want to go home?”  
  
Chris nods and this time when Darren pulls back, lets him go.   
  
*   
  
He only vaguely remembers getting back to the apartment. Darren leads him, hand in hand, past Brian and a couple of other people and into the bedroom.   
  
“Get into bed,” Darren says, kissing him on the forehead. “I’m gonna grab you an apple juice and something for the headache you’re gonna have.”   
  
Chris can hear Darren faintly talking to whoever is out there, but he tries to ignore it. He crawls under the covers and they smell like Darren and there’s a fresh twist on the pain, because he’d somehow managed to forget for a little bit that Darren shouldn’t be here, doing this. He shouldn’t be asking Darren to do this.   
  
But right now he doesn’t have the strength to refuse it and when Darren comes back with a juice box and pills Chris takes them all and then lets Darren pull him down onto the bed, safely encircled in his arms once again.   
  
“It’s bad,” Chris says, reciting what his father had told him. Darren’s fingers pet through his hair soothingly. “She had a seizure and she hasn’t woken up. The doctors s-said-”   
  
He can’t finish the sentence, turning his face into Darren’s chest and probably smearing tears and snot all over his shirt.   
  
Darren doesn’t seem to notice, much less care. “She’s tough, okay? She’s gonna make it through this. She needs her Bubba to have some faith in her, too, though, okay? Hasn’t she been through worse? You’ve told me...”   
  
Chris nods. His fingers come up and stroke over Darren’s shoulder, then clench into the thin t-shirt material. “I’m so sorry,” he gasps, squeezing his eyes shut.   
  
“I know. Me, too,” Darren says back softly. He pauses for just a second and then says,  “I love you, you know that?”   
  
“I love you, too, and I’m sorry, I’m so- I didn’t want us to-” Chris suddenly can’t be close enough, tries to plaster himself to Darren with every inch that he can.   
  
Darren holds him just as firmly, sliding their legs together and letting his arms meet around Chris. “So let’s forget all this broken up bullshit, okay? Let’s go back to being us.”   
  
There are so many things he needs to say, so many confessions to make and discussions to finish, but right now that’s all he needs to hear.   
  
*   
  
He sleeps longer and harder than he has in two weeks, despite what’s going on with his sister. He feels hungover from it when he wakes up, disoriented because it’s dark outside and his stomach is growling and Darren’s on the phone - his phone, actually.   
  
“Yeah- yeah, I mean, I think so, but- I’m not, I don’t wanna wake him up, he’s... yeah, he’s sleeping. Oh. He hasn’t? Okay, definitely not gonna-”   
  
Chris rolls over and rubs his eyes. Darren is sitting up, leaning against the headboard.   
  
“Never mind, he woke up anyway. Do you want to talk to him-”  
  
Chris shakes his head, curling in on himself. His forehead touches Darren’s hip and Darren switches hands with the phone so he can reach down and stroke Chris’s hair away from his forehead.   
  
Chris sighs deeply, feeling tears prickle at his eyes. He doesn’t want to cry again. Maybe it was cathartic, but it wasn’t fun, and he wants to be done with it. He hears Darren end the phone call and he wants to drift more but he’s tethered by a sense of responsibility, of the things he needs to do. “Who was that?” He asks, voice scratchy.   
  
“Ashley.” Darren moves down until he’s laying again, tugging Chris into him. Chris goes willingly, Darren’s bicep firm against the back of his neck and his cheek on Darren’s shoulder. “She called a few times earlier and I didn’t answer, but I figured - you’re staying with her, right? I thought she might get worried, so I let her know where you were.”   
  
“‘kay,” Chris mumbles. “Did my dad call?”  
  
“Your mom did. I talked to her. No change, so I didn’t wake you up. She said you could call back whenever you wanted, didn’t matter what time.”   
  
“She won’t sleep anyway,” he says absently, remembering all those times as a child when he would sit up with her. “I’ll call her in a few minutes.”   
  
“You hungry? I can go find us something-”  
  
“No,” Chris whispers. “Can you just stay? I just...”   
  
“Yeah, of course, yeah.” Darren tugs the covers up around them.   
  
*   
  
Chris wakes up mid-morning to find Darren staring at him, eyes red and wet. He’s been crying, obviously.   
  
Chris jolts up. “Hannah-”   
  
“No, no, she’s, she’s okay. I checked with your mom an hour ago, she’s fine. I mean, nothing has changed.”   
  
“So why are you-” Chris lays back down, forcing himself to breathe and calm.   
  
“Hey, you gotta be starving.” Darren avoids the question, twisting away and sitting up. He’s wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. “Um, omelets? Omelets okay?”   
  
“Yeah,” Chris says.   
  
As soon as Darren is out of the room he feels shaky again. He’s cold but tucking the blanket around him doesn’t help.   
  
He doesn’t really know what will. After a few minutes, the food starts to smell good and he gets up to go into the kitchen.   
  
“Anyone else here?” He asks.   
  
Darren shakes his head. “Class.”   
  
“Oh.” Chris looks at the clock. “Wait, it’s after ten, you have that-”   
  
Darren slides a plated omelet over to him. “Skipping it.”   
  
“You don’t have to.” Chris still feels sick but his stomach is growling, sending conflicting signals. He can’t remember the last time he felt okay.   
  
“I want to.” Darren leans over with a fork and starts working on the other end of it. “I just made one, sorry.”   
  
“No, help yourself.” Chris chews and swallows, makes himself do it again. He barely gets half down before he stops.   
  
“You’ve lost weight,” Darren comments.   
  
“It’s only been a few weeks, how can you tell?” Chris asks.  
  
Darren gives him a small, tired smile. “Hey, I can tell, okay? Looking at you is like, my number one hobby. I’m an expert in the area of Chris.”   
  
It makes him laugh but somehow the laugh gets choked. Darren moves around the counter and wraps his arms around Chris, hugging him tightly. He doesn’t treat Chris like he’s fragile or offer a gentle touch. It’s need meeting need, desperation meeting desperation.   
  
“I love you,” Chris gasps. “And I need to... Darren, I fucked up-”   
  
“I love you, too.” Darren kisses him on the mouth, off-center and too hard, but Chris kisses back with everything he’s got, swallowing down the things that will just hurt them both even more.   
  
*   
  
It’s later in the afternoon when his mother calls.   
  
Hannah’s awake and responding.   
  
“She’s okay.” Chris sags with relief when he hangs up. Darren’s smile is sunshine-bright and ear to ear.   
  
“Chris, fuck, man, I’m so glad.” He pulls Chris in close and they share an ecstatic moment of quiet before Darren interrupts it with another softly muttered, “Fuck,” full of relief.    
  
“She’s going to be fine,” Chris repeats. “And so are we?”   
  
“Yeah.” Darren cups the back of his head, their cheeks pressed together. “We are.”   
  
“I missed you,” Chris says, eyes damp as he kisses just below Darren’s ear. “So much.”   
  
“I don’t think I slept more than a couple hours at a time the whole time you were gone,” Darren says. His arms go even tighter around Chris. “Please don’t ever leave again. I don’t care if we’re like, fighting so bad we’re throwing shit at each other, please don’t.”   
  
“Don’t let me,” Chris says. His hand cups the back of Darren’s head, fingers tangling in his hair. “I was so scared of you leaving.”   
  
“I never thought you would,” Darren says. “And then you did and I can’t - god, Chris.”   
  
Chris pulls back and wipes at Darren’s face. “I love you. I won’t do that again.”   
  
“And if you do, I’m coming after your ass,” Darren says. “I should have before, but everyone kept telling me maybe you needed a little bit of time to cool down.”   
  
“I knew it was a mistake as soon as I left,” Chris says. He kisses Darren, wet and messy and off-center. “I just didn’t know if you wanted me to come back.”   
  
Darren’s hands splay over Chris’s back, kissing him again, kissing him with intensity that makes Chris’s breath hitch. “Always,” he says, mouths still pressed together. “I will always want you to come back.”  
  
*   
  
It’s better, almost right away, because they’re both so desperate to be back to where they belong that almost nothing is unforgivable. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. There’s still hurt, and they’ve still now both done things they can’t take back.   
  
That night, tangled in the sheets after sex that felt more like it was about making promises and healing wounds than it was about getting off, they talk.   
  
“I made out with someone else,” Chris admits.   
  
Darren is upset, but less surprised than Chris expects.  
  
“I had a feeling,” Darren says. “Someone- um. Someone saw you walking with him. Eric, right? It sounded like him from the description. And it, it got back around to me.”   
  
“Darren.” Chris feels cold all over. He can’t even imagine how he’d feel if he had to hear it second-hand that Darren was with someone else.   
  
Darren just shakes his head. “I’m just... I figured you were seeing him already. You were just over me... that fast.”   
  
“I didn’t. It wasn’t even a date. I was upset, and he was being a friend. Ashley was supposed to be with us, but she couldn’t make it.” Chris grips Darren’s hand. “It was a few kisses. Nothing else happened. I can’t even imagine being over you, Darren.”  
  
His voice cracks a little and Darren leans forward to kiss him on the mouth, a few seconds of firm pressure.  
  
Then it’s Darren’s turn.   
  
“When I... heard that. I was so fucked up that night, man. I was so... I don’t think I’ve ever felt so bad in my life. I just wanted to get away. So I... I sent off the paper. The semester abroad one. They called me yesterday, I got in.” Darren looks like a kicked puppy as he says it. “I really wasn’t lying before, Chris. I was going to talk to you about it. But then we... we weren’t.... together. And I couldn’t stand the thought of staying here.”   
  
“So you’re going?” He asks.   
  
Darren drops his hand to rub his palms over his face. “I don’t know.”   
  
“Okay,” Chris says, breathing. In, out, in out. He can do this. “You should go.”   
  
“Chris.” Darren looks crushed, absolutely gutted.   
  
Chris realizes his mistake. “We don’t have to break up. It’s just one semester. You should go.”    
  
“No, don’t say that,” Darren says, shaking his head. “I haven’t accepted, but I haven’t rejected it either, and I’m not gonna... yet. I’ve got a few weeks before the deadline, okay? We can really talk about it.”   
  
The defensiveness is creeping back up on him. “It’s your life,” he says, voice more terse than before.   
  
Their eyes meet and Darren is laying everything out there now, approaching cautiously. “It’s not my life. I don’t want it to be my life. It’s ours.”   
  
Just like that, he rips through everything else, down to the heart of Chris.   
  
Chris leans in and kisses him softly. “Okay. We’ll talk about it together, then.”   
  
“And we’re okay?” Darren asks.   
  
Chris nods. “We will be."


End file.
